


Get a Kigurumi, You Two!

by orphan_account



Category: The Derp Crew (Youtube RPF)
Genre: Dry Humping, Dry Orgasm, Kigurumis, M/M, My Hero Academia (Referenced), Premature Ejaculation, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 11:24:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12387102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Grown men in animal onesies act like desperate teenage boys, and they enjoy it, and that's enough for the both of them.





	Get a Kigurumi, You Two!

It was Friday night. It was Friday night, and Aphex almost wondered if this was going to be a bust. He knew it wasn’t—it never had been, and he saw no reason for that to change, but… it was ridiculous, thinking of depressing stuff like that at, of all times, now—he had more pressing things to attend to.

Like putting on his frog kigurumi.

It was a weekly ritual between friends—Aphex didn’t remember exactly how it started, but for the last year or so, John had been coming over to watch anime with him every Friday night without fail—likely because neither of them really had lives, but they had each other, and that was enough for the both of them. 

Tonight was Boku No Hero Academia, one of Aphex’s recent favorites, and he had gone all out for the occasion—if going all out meant a pizza and a two-liter of Coke, but he was living on a budget here. No need to go into debt for just another Friday night with John. It’s not like either of them had really minded; once, Aphex had splurged by getting a tub of ice cream to share between them, but the end of Puella Magi Madoka Magica warranted something to distract them from all the tears if John’s sobbing after just the third episode was any indication.

But that was a few months ago, and right now, it was just the normal fare. Nothing special or extraordinary, but just as much fun that a Friday night would allow. At least, Aphex seemed to think so.

A turn of the knob on the front door announced John’s entrance, Aphex momentarily forgetting that he had given his friend the spare key a long while ago specifically for nights like this. They hugged and laughed and talked about all the theories they had for the next few episodes, and before long they were lying side-by-side on Aphex’s bed (his studio apartment didn’t leave much room for anything but the essentials), eyes glued to Aphex’s laptop. They both sang along to the theme song as best they could, butchering almost every single Japanese word that came out of their mouths in a display that would shame their middle school language teachers beyond belief.

They laughed and began to watch the episode, snuggling up together in the spooning position that had become customary between them—John had started it, claiming he was cold even in the owl onesie he had gathered in little bunches around him, and Aphex had never really said anything about it, just putting an arm around his friend and pulling him in tighter. Whatever the case, they both enjoyed the cuddle, and the first two episodes passed without much incident aside from Aphex burping once, making John laugh a little while he tried to tell his friend off for it.

It was the third episode that actually had anything major happen between them: John had wiggled a little in excitement, ready to see the result of the cliffhanger from last episode, and his ass met Aphex’s dick between two layers of animal onesie and suddenly it wasn’t just the kigurumis between them anymore.

Aphex panicked and pushed John away, acutely aware of how complicated further contact could make things between them. John huffed a little, missing the embrace, and paused the video, turning over to look at Aphex’s alarmed face with confusion.

“You—John, I think you—”

“I what?”

Aphex paused, unsure if John was just playing him for a fool or actually didn’t know what he had done. He settled on the latter and tried to smooth the interaction over before John could figure it out.

“Nothing, I just… wasn’t thinking straight.”

“Not thinking straight? Aphex, could that mean you’d want to—”

John put on his best Izuku impression, ready to make one of the worst jokes ever known to man.

“—eat me?”

Aphex gulped, unsure of how to reply—a “yes” might have been the truth, but he was pretty sure that you weren’t supposed to reply in the affirmative to a question like that.

“...no?”

“Oh come on, you need to loosen up—have a little fun, you know?”

John punched Aphex in the shoulder lightly as he sat up, smirking mischievously. This wasn’t good.

“What?”

“Oh come on man, you’re like the worst with jokes.”

“I am not!”

“Uh, you kinda are. Can’t take a single joke at your expense. Your temper’s like your height: short.”

The matter-of-fact attitude, combined with John booping Aphex’s nose for emphasis, fueled a feeling within Aphex that he hadn’t felt since his teenage years: the urge to wrestle an apology out of someone. Never mind the fact that John actually watched WWE religiously—Aphex’s mind was somewhere else far beyond the land of common adult sense and sensibility.

“Oh that’s it. You’re fucking getting it.”

Aphex launched at John (as much as a haphazard lunge could be called a launch), knocking him down against his comforter with a yell. Laughing from the burst of adrenaline, John managed to shake Aphex off of him, doing his best to scramble on top of his friend, but just getting pushed down again by Aphex. Struggling, John bucked his hips in an attempt to break free. 

They froze, the two of them realizing simultaneously what John had just felt in front of Aphex’s stomach: Aphex’s dick.

And it was hard—painfully hard—both of them at a loss for what to say.

In the awkward silence that followed, they did nothing but look at each other’s faces turn into some dark shade of maroon, unsure of what to do to break the silence.

John moved first, experimentally bucking his hips up again to meet Aphex’s as if a wrong move here could end the both of them. He followed with another thrust of his hips, then another, and another—each buck filled with more and more confidence and less and less restraint until John had settled into an aggressive rhythm—the room silent except for the heavy breaths that punctuated it, both too caught up in the feeling of it all to do much else other than rut against each other.

It was Aphex who leaned down to bridge the gap between them, pressing his lips against John’s tentatively. John moaned into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Aphex’s middle to pull him closer, needing everything Aphex was giving him and more. John’s hands roamed up to Aphex’s chest, finding the buttons keeping the top part of the frog kigurumi closed. He pulled the first one open, then the second, his lips still locked with Aphex’s as he began to unbutton the top half of Aphex’s onesie.

John slipped a hand inside to feel the burning expanse of Aphex’s skin, exploring all the warm, chubby flesh at his disposal slowly. His fingers ghosted over Aphex’s chest, drawing out a little whine as Aphex pulled away from the kiss suddenly.

“John, I—”

John exploratorily cupped Aphex’s pecs, eliciting a soft moan that interrupted any attempt at a coherent string of words on Aphex’s part. He tried to gather himself again, barely managing to focus on what he was saying despite John’s teasing touch.

“Fuck, John, how do you—how are you doing this?”

Aphex squirmed in place as John squeezed softly, the cool hands against his skin making Aphex feel even more hot and heavy than he had before. Fuck, he wasn’t going to last long like this—not if John kept touching him.

“I don’t know—you like it? You look like you do.”

Aphex nodded hurriedly, struggling to pay attention to John’s teasing as John’s hands went lower down to his belly, lightly trailing their rough tips against the soft flesh of Aphex’s stomach.

“I wonder what would happen if I went down here…”

And as if on cue, Aphex came. Aphex came and he had never felt more embarrassed than he had right then. Here he was, a grown man in an frog onesie prematurely cumming like some desperate teenage boy lucky enough to even get past first base. He hadn’t even been properly touched yet, and yet here he was, his stomach slick and sticky and his face burning a shade of red brighter than anything John had ever seen.

“Holy shit, fuck, fuck, fuck, oh god.”

That was John. Holy shit Aphex had forgotten about John. How could he have? He was a bad friend—was he even a friend now? This was kind of a bit over the line for just friends.

“I think I just fucking came. Shit.”

Aphex looked down, and sure enough, John looked just about as mortified as he did, his eyes wide and cheeks pink as he smiled apologetically. At least Aphex wasn’t the only desperate teenage boy in this situation—a small comfort, but it worked wonders for his mortal embarrassment.

He began to laugh, unable to think of much else to do, and John joined in, both of them awkward and unsure and confused. They sat there and laughed until their sides hurt, and for once, it wasn’t just another Friday night.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, well, at the very least, I possess both an infinite and nonexistent amount of shame, so here this goofy little thing is, free of charge. A warm thank you to my friends Shark and Ren, who were major helps with this fic (like half of the plot points here are adapted from their suggestions), and to you—yes you—for reading; I really hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
